


Something Old, Something New

by BJackson



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Comedy, Gen, Groundhog's Day, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 00:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5846419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BJackson/pseuds/BJackson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, Sam leaps into a bride who's kidnapped just before her wedding. And the next day. And the next. And the next...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

    Sam Beckett was bathed in sapphire, traveling toward his next destination in the time continuum. Previous to this, he'd been helping a little girl in 1953 find her lost kitten, not that he knew that. Whatever caused Sam to lose his recollections between leaps had sucked the information out like spaghetti, leaving only a half-eaten plate of memory meatballs. No matter. Sam knew that wherever he'd come from, he'd put right what once went wrong and everything was left for the better. All in a day's work for the average time-traveling, body-snatching, Nobel-Prize-winning farm-boy-turned-quantum-physicist.   
  
    The blizzard of light that was Sam coalesced into a solid being again; a new person, a new leap, a new start. He hoped it was a good one. The first thing that struck him was the smell of strong perfume. As he blinked and adjusted himself to his surroundings, he was thrust straight into the present when white hot heat sizzled at his temple.   
  
    "AH!"   
  
    "Jeez, Mads, I told you to stay still!" A heavyset Asian woman in her 20s had a curling iron gripped dangerously under her 2-inch red nails. She tutted and fussed with the hair on his forehead. "Hang on hang on hang on, don't sweat it. I'll just rearrange your bangs and no one'll even notice!" Proud of her remarkable ingenuity, she lifted the curling iron again and came at him with it like a weapon. Sam made sure to sit still this time, even as the stench of his burning hair furled into his nostrils.   
  
    The woman was wearing the ugliest dress Sam had ever seen. It was color-blocked, lime green and purple, skin tight, and pinching in all of the most unflattering places. One odd detail though. Atop her head she wore a wreath of flowers. Why would she have that on, he wondered?  
  
    Oh no. Sam saw the fancy room around them, adorned in white-hued decoration. Flowers and balloons were strung along the wall, and the bad hunch he had began to seep from his stomach and throughout his whole body like a parasite. His shoes were too tight. His torso was bound in some sort of medieval torture device. It was much too breezy for his bottom half.   
  
    Horrified, he lowered his sights. He was in a wedding dress!  
  
    "Oh boy!" Sam gasped.   
  
    He just now noticed the mirror in front of him, giving him the opportunity to soak in the whole dreadful thing. He'd escaped from some sort of marshmallow nightmare realm, swaths of cloth forming two giant cotton ball sleeves that shrank into skin-tight lace, mounds of pearly white billowing out from underneath him, topped off with a corset encasing him like an iron maiden, meant less for breathing and more for showing off mountains of his hairy cleavage. Whoever this unlucky bride was--Mads?--she stared back at him, dumbstruck, through thickly lined eyes that made her look like a raccoon. Although her heavy makeup aged her, she had to be in her early 20s, with an olive complexion that was tinted orange with fake tan.   
  
    "It's not _that_ bad," the color-blocked woman--his (gulp) _bridesmaid_ \--assured him with a big, plum-lipped grin, "I barely got your hairline there. Carl won't even notice!"  
  
    Another woman in a matching hideous dress, wearing enough hairspray to kill the ozone layer, approached the other bridesmaid. "Hey, Fiona," she said through a thick Chicago accent, "Tia says she needs help organizing the gifts."  
  
    "I'm on it." Mercifully, Fiona lowered her burning baton. "See you at the ceremony!" With a wiggle of her fingers, she bounced away.   
  
    Sam blanched, reaching out as if stopping her would stop time itself. "The c-ceremony? Now--Now, the ceremony's now?!"   
  
    Big Hair fastened a veil on his head and smiled affectionately into the mirror. "Oh, Madison...you look beautiful." She blinked as she became misty eyed, cupping his puffy shoulders. She kissed him atop the head. "I'm so happy for you. I'm glad you finally found the one."   
  
    "About that," Sam said nervously, "I-I've been thinking, and maybe it isn't such a good idea for me to--"  
  
    "To go out looking like that?" A rail-thin woman with the same complexion as Madison stood in the doorway, dressed in a powder pink power suit, all sharp angles. She flounced across the room and hummed disapprovingly. Without warning, she grabbed onto the back of Sam's corset and yanked it tighter, causing him to wheeze like he'd just been socked in the gut. "I told you to lose a few more pounds before the wedding, dear, but we can't change that now. I only hope the family looks decent in the photos."  
  
    The bridesmaid rubbed Sam's shoulder in private consolation. "Madison will outshine everyone. That's the important thing."  
  
    "Hmmm..." Power suit woman seemed to be finding fault in a single curl of Sam's hair as she twirled at it. "You should leave it down. It looks much better down. Of course, it would look even better if you'd gone with the blue color scheme like I suggested. But do you listen to your mother? Oh, and about the dinner, your father and I will have to skip it. You know how salmon gives me gas. And another thing--"  
  
    "Uh, Diane," the bridesmaid cut in, stepping between Sam and his over-controlling mother, "We'd better make sure everything is running smoothly out there. We want it all to be perfect for the big day, don't we?"  
  
    "Fine, fine, Gina, I'll go," Diane sighed, raising an eyebrow as she smiled. It was the most motherly she'd looked within the 60 seconds Sam had known her. She leaned in toward him. "My little girl. What would you do without me? Oh well. Kiss kiss!" She puckered at the air beside either of Sam's cheeks before Gina guided her out by the elbow, shooting Sam one last apologetic look before the door shut and he was left alone. All was silent save for the rain pounding against the window, which made Sam mentally groan. Of _course_ it was raining. How could this leap possibly get any worse?  
  
    A wolf whistle sounded from behind him. "Yowza, you're lookin' great there, Sam! White is definitely your color."  
  
    "Al! Boy, am I glad you're here! I--" Sam whipped around and abruptly jolted to a stop, his thoughts temporarily displaced from his dire situation. The hologram wore a bright maroon shirt, silver pants, and suspenders covered in buttons, a black hat atop his head to match the long bolo tie dangling from a mismatched set of gears. All of that was normal for Al, however. What had Sam staring was the sad, thin line of hair growing on his upper lip like some sort of fungus. He was actually taken aback a moment. "What is, um...what is that?"   
  
    "What's what?"  
  
    Sam drew his finger across his own lip in demonstration. "Under your nose there. What is that?"  
  
    Al blinked cluelessly. "What is--Oh! My mustache! I forgot, you hadn't seen it yet. Yeah, I've been trying it out for a little while. What do you think?" He puffed up his chest and waited for Sam's approval, which he would not be receiving.   
  
    "I think you need a date with a razor."   
  
    The admiral instantly frowned. He huffed and closed his eyes matter-of-factly. "Well, it doesn't matter what _you_ think, because _Tina_ thinks it's sexy. She says she read in Teen Beat Magazine that mustaches make a man look suave and sophisticated." He quirked an eyebrow, hooked his thumbs into his suspenders, and tried to look debonair.  
  
    "Tina reads Teen Beat Magazine?" Sam questioned, face scrunched up. His eyes widened as a thought occurred to him. "Wait a minute--Tina isn't a teenager...is she?"   
  
    Al shot him a disappointed glower. "Of course she isn't, Sam. Give me a little credit, will ya? She says she likes the pictures." He gave a dirty smirk. "She also likes it when my mustache tickles her--"  
  
    "Al!" Sam shouted in disgust. Al shrugged and chose to leave the rest to his friend's imagination. "Do you have anything on this leap yet?"  
  
    The handlink popped and whirred as Al took it out of his pants pocket and shook it. "Not much, but Ziggy's workin' on it as we speak. In the meantime, I'll tell you what we know. It's May 23...1990, you're in Chicago, and you've leaped into...Madison Antonelli, fiancee of Carl Kingman..." Squinting, he looked up and tilted his head. "Carl Kingman, Carl Kingman, where do I know that--Ooh!" His eyes widened in awe. "The King! Sam, you're marrying the Hot Dog King!"  
  
    Sam crinkled his nose. "The Hot Dog King?"  
  
    "Yeah, the--You don't remember him?" Sam shook his head no. "Oh. His brand is HUGE, made it big in the late 80s with those catchy commercial jingles. Let's see, uhhh..." Al bit his lip as he tried to remember the tune, warbling out a horribly off-key rendition. "Ring-a-ling-ling, he's the King, for the BEST--"  
  
    "Would you get to the point?"  
  
    "He's rich, you're middle class. He's 43, you're 22. You're a trophy wife, Sam." If he weren't a hologram, Sam would've loved to smack that teasing smile right off his face. The handlink squealed at Al just as the door opened and Fiona peeked her head in.  
  
    "We're about to start. Get ready!" She giggled excitedly and shut the door.   
  
    Hysteria sprung forth into Sam's throat once again. He turned pleadingly toward his friend. "I'm about to get married, Al! You gotta help me get out of this!"   
  
    Al, however, was concentrated on the handlink, his forehead wrinkled. "Uhhh, well, you don't get married, Sam."  
  
    "Why not?"  
  
    The hologram looked up with panic. "Because according to Ziggy--"  
  
    Sam didn't hear what Al was going to say, because something was placed over his mouth and he began to struggle with an unseen assailant. Within seconds, his eyes rolled back and he was out like a light.  
  
\-------  
  
    The first thing Sam became aware of was the sound of a gravelly voice calling obnoxiously into his ear. "Hey! Rip Van Winkle! Rise and shine!"  
  
    Sam gave an ugly snort. "Rip Van...?"   
  
    "You alright, kid?"  
  
    Sam opened his eyes, only to be met with pitch black. He gasped. "Al! I'm blind!"  
  
    "No you're not, Sam," he could practically hear Al's eyes rolling, "You're just blindfolded. Don't be such a drama queen."  
  
    Sam, however, continued to be a drama queen. "Where am I? What's going on?" In a state of sensory-deprived panic, he anxiously turned his head this way and that, as if he could see through the blindfold. He had to depend on his other senses. Coarse rope itched his skin as it rubbed against his wrists behind him. A spring was sticking into his back from whatever he was sitting on--an old couch?--and it creaked as he moved. His ears picked up the sound of rain continuing to patter outside, mingled with car horns. Sniffing, he crinkled his nose. The room smelled an unholy combination of brewing coffee and rancid garbage.   
  
    _Smack!_ The handlink made noises of protest.  
  
    "Al?" Sam's question pressed for more information.   
  
    "Sorry. I'm workin' on it, kid, I'm workin' on it." Sam could hear the cigar between Al's teeth, his voice moving closer and farther as he paced. "You're in an apartment in downtown Chicago right now. You've been kidnapped by two major bottom feeders, uh...Bud Turner and Stur..." _Smack!_ "Sturgis Fitzburg. They're a coupla small-time crooks looking to make some big cash by holding you for ransom."  
  
    "Thanks for the early warning back there," Sam whinged.  
  
    "Hey, don't blame me; blame Ziggy! She was the one with the jet lag." The handlink tweeted peevishly, only to get louder when it was whacked again. Al sighed. "Figures. Now she's got a microchip on her shoulder about it."   
  
    "And let me guess...my husband can't come up with the money?"  
  
    "'Course he can. The King is loaded, remember? But for some reason, before they make the exchange, Madison disappears!"  
  
    "Which means... _I_ disappear."  
  
    "Bingo. Ziggy gives it an 83% chance you're here to escape these two chuckleheads before you make like the _Invisible Man_ and vanish."  
  
    However, Sam was having some trouble figuring out how they got from Point A to Point B. He wiggled his nose as he realized it was starting to itch. "I don't get it. Why would Turner and Fitzburg get rid of their hostage before they got the ransom?"  
  
    "That's a good question. When they were arrested, they swore up and down they didn't know where she was, and a body was never found. Personally, I think something went caca and they buried her under concrete somewhere."   
  
    Sam involuntarily shuddered as he imagined sharing her same fate.   
  
    Footsteps entered the room and he whipped his head in their general direction. The smell of licorice wafted into his nostrils as a pair of stubby hands pulled the blindfold away. The room wasn't well-lit, but he still had to blink as his eyes adjusted.   
  
    "Heya, girlie," the one with less-stubby hands greeted with a wave, "Sorry about the blindfold. We weren't sure when you were gonna wake up, and we didn't want you gettin' any bright ideas about escaping on the way here." He was the older of the two, with gray hair at his temples and a long, hooked nose. "We don't wanna hurt you. So just play nice, and we won't have a problem. Right, Bud?" The man seated next to Sam on the couch, oily and obese, leaned closer and flashed a set of rotten teeth. Immediately, Sam and Al recoiled in horror.  
  
    "Wh-What do you want?" Sam asked meekly, partially playing the part and partially gauging their reactions to size them up.  
  
    Bud stayed silent, looking toward Sturgis to take the lead. The older man pulled over a phone; it made a noise like a little bell as he plonked it heavily onto the coffee table. "Here's how this is gonna go. We're gonna call your husband, right? We're gonna tell him if he wants to see you again, he'll pay up. And if you're good, we'll let him talk to you." He gave a wispy grin. "But you try any funny stuff?" His grin cut away and he slid his thumb across his throat. Sam instinctively jerked back. " _Capiche?_ "   
  
    " _Puh_ ," Al's chin sunk in disgust and he curled back his upper lip. "You're as Italian as I'm a runway model."   
  
    Sam nodded toward his kidnappers in understanding. " _Capiche_."   
  
    "Good. We won't have any problem then," Sturgis said pleasantly. He lifted the phone from the receiver and dialed, playing with the cord as he waited for an answer. He perked up when someone came on the other line. "Hi there. I'd like to speak to the Hot Dog King... Me? Oh, I have his fiancee..."   
  
    While the kidnappers were distracted with the phone call, Sam whispered discretely to Al. "When do I disappear?"  
  
    Running a finger across his mustache distractedly, Al glanced down at the handlink and shrugged. "There's no data on that. All we know for sure is that it happens before 4 o'clock; that's the time they set up for the exchange."  
  
    Suddenly, Sam found the phone being shoved toward his ear. He looked at Sturgis questioningly. "Well?" the older man asked, "Go ahead, babe."  
  
    "Um...h-hello?" Sam asked uncertainly. Al leaned in to listen to the call.   
  
    " _There_ you are, my darling!" It was Carl on the other end, presumably. His over-the-top voice was all over the place, almost a performance. "My angel! My babycakes! I was so worried when you didn't show up at the ceremony!"   
  
    "Well, I...heh, got a little tied up," Sam chuckled nervously. Sturgis and Bud guffawed.   
  
    "Don't you worry your pretty little head about anything, my blueberry muffin! The ransom is as good as paid. Soon, you'll be in my comforting arms and we can forget this whole thing!"   
  
    Sam nodded, mostly for the benefit of the two other men. "Uh-huh. Okay."  
  
    "I love you _so_ much, lambykins!"   
  
    Sam gulped. The other men were staring. "Okay, well..."   
  
    "You can do better than _that_ , Sam," Al admonished, his eyes on the ceiling. He missed the look of death Sam shot back at him.  
  
    "I..." Sam struggled, "l-love you too, um..."  
  
    "Schnookums," Al provided.  
  
    "...schnookums," Sam finished with as much dignity as he could muster. On the other line, he could hear some shuffling.   
  
    A new voice, but with a familiar Chicago accent piped in. "Mads, are you okay? They didn't hurt you, did they?"  
  
    Al consulted Ziggy. "That's Gina Kingman, Carl's sister and Madison's best friend."  
  
    Sam gave a slight nod. "Yeah, I'm fine, they--"  
  
    The phone was yanked away. "That's enough. Have the cash in a paper bag at the address we gave you at 4 o'clock. We'll drop off the blushing bride then." With that, Sturgis hung up and took the phone away into the next room.   
  
    That left Sam alone with Bud. He gave him another gross smile and Sam awkwardly returned one to be polite. "You wanna watch some TV?" the toad asked, speaking up for the first time. He sounded more like a mouse than a lion, his voice almost a falsetto, far from what Sam had expected to come out of the mouth of such a large man.   
  
    "Not really," Sam answered. He wanted him out of there so he could make his move.   
  
    "Aww, come on," Bud said, almost as if coaxing a small child, "Don't be like that. We're not gonna hurt you. Might as well enjoy yourself while you're here." He picked up the remote and turned on the TV. On the news, a reporter was discussing the kidnapping. Evidently, this wedding was really high profile. The sight of the report lit up Bud's eyes and he hopped excitedly. "Hey Sturgis!" he called into the next room, "We're on the news!" The other man didn't answer, and Bud returned his attention to the screen with awe.  
  
    "Some people will do anything for their fifteen minutes of fame," Al commented with a shake of the head. Helpful. Sam wished he'd come up with a plan to get Mr. Big out of the room.   
  
    Bud seemed like more of a pushover than Sturgis. Maybe Sam could use this to his advantage. "Gee, I'm really hungry," Sam said innocently, "I don't suppose you could make me something to eat?" He batted his eyelashes and tried to look sweet.   
  
    Al frowned. "Saaam, this is no time to be thinkin' about your stomach! We gotta get you outta here!"   
  
    Sam's sweet look turned to salt super quick, his raccoon gaze razor sharp daggers. Bud didn't notice. "I think I can do that. I'm getting hungry myself!" With a strenuous grunt, he pulled himself up off of the couch.   
  
    Now Al was catching on. "Oh! Good thinking, Sam!"   
  
    Sam rolled his eyes and nodded. Thanks, Al.   
  
    "What do ya feel like eating?" Bud asked.   
  
    "Surprise me," Sam answered with a phony grin.   
  
    "One surprise comin' up, little lady!" Bud opened the kitchen door, revealing a filthy counter stacked with food-covered dishes, and disappeared inside.   
  
    Al covered his nose as if he could smell the apartment from a decade away. Maybe he _could_ , with the stench it was giving off. "Yuck! Thank god you're not really eating anything comin' outta _that_ kitchen!"  
  
    Sam was ignoring him, peering through the open door where Sturgis exited. The older kidnapper was seated in the hallway next to the front door, reading a newspaper and playing with a knife. Sam ducked back inside and rushed toward Al. "The other guy's at the front door. Any ideas?"   
  
    "Oh. Let's see, uh..." Al's eyes swept the room and he began to track across the apartment in search of escape plan. Sam did the same. "Oh! Sam! Over here!" Al pulled his head out of the wall and waved him over. "There's a platform outside this window." He jabbed his cigar at the glass. "You can get out there and flag down some help."  
  
    "That's it? That's all you've got?"  
  
    "This is Chicago. Someone's bound to see you." He checked with the handlink to confirm. "Ziggy gives it a 62% chance of success." He shrugged, half-apologetic.   
  
    It wasn't the best odds out there, but Sam decided 62% was better than nothing. Besides, it's not as if he had a lot of exits around here. Squatting down, he stepped over his wrists and pulled his hands to the front. It must have been a spectacle to watch as he struggled to get his wrists around his enormous dress. Licking his lips and glancing behind him to make sure he wasn't being watched, he opened the window and leaned outside.  
  
    Only to immediately jerk back inside.  
  
    "What? What's wrong?" Al questioned with concern.  
  
    "We're ten stories up, Al," Sam gasped.  
  
    "Oh yeah. Well..." Al stuck his head out again. "That's a sturdy platform out there, Sam. Just don't lose your balance and you'll be okay." He nodded assuredly and gave a foxy grin. Sam glared again and took a deep breath.  
  
    "Okay. I can do this, I can do this..." He wasn't afraid of heights, he wasn't afraid of heights. He stuck one leg out the window, pushing his ridiculously voluminous skirt out of the way. The rain was still pouring down, and he nearly lost his footing.  
  
    "Oh, and it's kinda wet, Sam."  
  
    " _Thanks_ ," Sam said through his teeth, to which Al nodded as if he'd done him a favor. Carefully, he pulled the rest of himself outside and leaned against the cable. He blew out a breath. He'd made it.  
  
    He chanced a look back at the wall and groaned. The bricks were covered with a half-painted ad for, of course, the Hot Dog King. A giant, 12-foot face with pronounced crow's feet and slick hair smiled a cheesy, gap-toothed grin. Mocking him. "Oh, give me a _break_ ," Sam whined.   
  
    "Hey! What're you doing?!" Bud was suddenly at the window. Caught off guard, Sam jumped at the sudden shout and slipped in the rain...toppling over the edge!  
  
    "SAM!" Al shouted from his perch mid-air. Peering down fearfully through the rain that fell right through him, he expected to see his friend splatted on the pavement below. However, a voice called out from somewhere closer.  
  
    "AL!" Al did a double take as he looked to his left. The quantum physicist was dangling over the edge of the platform, the rope around his wrist caught on the edge of the bars. The slicker it got, however, the more he began to slip toward certain doom. He sucked in a sharp breath. "Al, help me!"  
  
    "I can't do anything! I'm a hologram!" Al shouted helplessly. He began to punch furiously at the handlink, looking for answers. "Come on, Ziggy, gimme something!"  
  
    Bud stepped onto the platform, and Sam slipped further with the sudden shift in weight. "AH! Careful! Careful!"   
  
    "I'm _bein'_ careful," Bud responded defensively. Just as he said this, he kicked over a can of paint. Goop poured out of it and over the side, a bucketful of blue splooshing upon an already-soaking Sam.   
  
    Despite the life or death circumstance he now found himself in, Sam had to take a moment. As he blinked and shook the paint out of his eyes, he felt himself buried under the crushing weight of absurdity. He was going to die in a wedding dress and painted like a Smurf. It was a Wonka-esque punishment for some crime he never knew he committed.   
  
    The rope slipped again, his stomach leapt into his throat, and he began to drop. Just as he was about to kiss his butt goodbye, a pair of stubby hands had caught him.   
  
    He expelled a jagged breath of relief.  
  
\-------  
  
    Now Sam was soaking wet, paint-stained, and coiled in rope from his chest down to his ankles. Judging by his appearance, he was ready to be laid out on the train tracks. A comical frown was etched permanently onto his face as he sat motionless and stared at the wall. He'd lost his privilege of being alone and now Bud was on watch, seated in a chair nearby and focused on the TV. A questionable uneaten sandwich sat on a dirty plate in front of Sam, which would have gone untouched even if he'd had the use of his hands.   
  
    _Clunk-whoosh_. Al stepped in from the Imaging Chamber. "I guess, uh, we found you something blue, huh, Sam?" He closed his eyes and chuckled at his own joke. Har-dee-har-har. Sam didn't move. "Oh come on, that was funny." When Sam finally responded with yet another irritated look, he raised his hands defensively. "Okay. I guess it wasn't _that_ funny. I just came to see how you're holding up until Ziggy can come up with something. We gotta hurry though, 'cause I've gotta get back to Annabelle."  
  
    "Anabelle?" Sam grinned sarcastically through his teeth, keeping his voice low. He glanced back at Bud, who kept his eyes glued to the screen. "What happened to Tina? She not like the mustache after all?"  
  
    "Oh, no, she introduced us."  
  
    "What?" Sam's head jerked toward him as his jaw dropped. Al's personal life astounded him.  
  
    Leaning forward, Al gave a cheeky grin. "Annabelle's my tortoise, Sam."  
  
    "Oh. You own a tortoise?" Sam asked with surprised happiness. He always loved to learn new details about his own time--that is, when they didn't involve Al's latest conquests.   
  
    Al bobbed his head like a proud parent. "Yeah, yeah, she was a gift from Tina a few years back. And she hasn't gotten fed today, so... Actually, I've got some pictures of her in my wallet. Lemme see here..." Shoving his hand into his pants pocket, he slid out his wallet and began to riffle through it. "She's really smart, Sam. Just today, she did the cutest thing. She--"  
  
    This gave Sam an idea. He ignored Al and called to his captor. "Hey, you have a girlfriend?" Trying not to look too disappointed, Al pouted and put his wallet back.   
  
    Bud scratched the back of his head and eyed Sam from his paint-clumped hair to blueberry-colored shoes. "I'm flattered, lady, but I ain't interested."  
  
    Sam chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, no, I don't mean--" His smile dropped. "What do you mean, you aren't interested?" he asked with slight offense.   
  
    "Yeah," Al chimed in, "Where does a troll like you get off rejecting a girl like Sam--I mean, Madison?" Sam nodded in agreement with his invisible friend.  
  
    "Sorry. You just ain't my type," Bud answered with a shrug, "'sides, I do have a girlfr--er, _had_ a girlfriend..." He corrected himself, frowning at the floor.  
  
    "What happened?"  
  
    "She left me for someone else," Bud told him sadly, "My best friend. Said they fell in love." He huffed. "Funny. They only noticed they were in love _after_ Sherry and I got together."  
  
    "Nice guy like you?" Al commented mockingly, lifting his cigar to his mouth, "How could she let you go?"  
  
    "Well..." Sam started innocently, leaning his head over, "Since I'm getting married and all, I think I know a little something about love. And I bet Sherry would think you're a real hero if you rescued a kidnapped bride..."  
  
    Bud's eyes lit up. "You think?"  
  
    "Oh yeah. Girls love a knight in shining armor."  
  
    "I dunno..." Bud said uncertainly, glancing at the door leading to the front, "Sturgis would get awful mad..."   
  
    Sam fixed him with a stare of utmost importance. "I guess you have to ask yourself what means more then. The money...or true love?"  
  
    A beat. Bud showed off his rotten teeth again. "Okay. I'll do it!" Bouncing excitedly, he began to untie Sam.   
  
    Astounded at Sam's unlikely win, Al laughed triumphantly and clapped his hands. "Good goin', Sam! Chivalry's not dead after all." Their victory was short-lived, however, because the handlink chirped and Al read the screen with wide eyes. "Uh-oh."  
  
    "Uh-oh?" The ropes slipped away as Sam stood up.   
  
    Al met his questioning gaze with worry. "You've changed history! According to Ziggy, Sturgis is about to die!"  
  
    "Die? How?"   
  
    "Who're you talkin' to?" Bud asked, confused.   
  
    "What the hell is going on here?" Sturgis strode furiously across the room.  
  
    "You gotta defuse the situation, Sam," Al urged him, "The two of them get into a fight here. Sturgis takes out a knife, ends up accidentally performing hara-kiri in the melee." For visual reference, he pantomimed an invisible sword to the gut.   
  
    "Oh no..." Sam said under his breath, looking toward the others with concern.   
  
    "I'm lettin' the girl go," Bud said with newfound confidence, straightening his posture, "I'm gonna get on the news for rescuing her and win Sherry back."  
  
    "You're WHAT?!" Sturgis was in his face now, his cheeks flushing red and making him look like a cartoonish devil. "What about the money? Sherry's not comin' back to you! You can be so stupid sometimes!"  
  
    "Maybe 'stupid' is a little harsh," Sam piped in with a friendly tone, attempting to calm him down, "Why don't we all just sit down and talk about--?"  
  
    "You take that back!" Bud demanded, shoving Sturgis away. The other man's reaction was instant, whipping the knife out from his belt.   
  
    "Why you--!"  
  
    The men began to grapple, and Sam reacted on instinct, bolting into the fray. "Hey! There's no need for--" He stopped when he felt a sudden push into his lower abdomen, and his breath left him. The kidnappers backed away in shock.  
  
    For a moment, Sam didn't understand why he was being stared at. He looked down. He felt no pain, but he could see the hilt of the knife clear as day.   
  
    "SAM!"   
  
    His vision began to blur, his increasing dizziness causing him to collapse to his knees. Al continued to call out to him, but he couldn't register what his friend was saying. He was drowned out by the rushing in his ears and the sudden shower of electric blue.   
  
\-------  
  
    Shards of cerulean shot into the atmosphere, and Sam was whole again. He blinked.   
  
    Had he died? No, no, he leaped...thank god, he leaped! If he hadn't, he would have...but Madison did. He'd failed. Closing his eyes mournfully, he held his stomach and let his head drop.   
  
    His temple burned, and he jerked up. "AH!"   
  
    "Jeez, Mads, I told you to stay still!"   
  
    "Huh? What?" Sam looked to his right, and his mouth hung open dumbly. There was Fiona, still in the bridesmaid dress from hell, still dangerous with a curling iron.   
  
    She tutted and fussed with the hair on his forehead. "Hang on hang on hang on, don't sweat it. I'll just rearrange your bangs and no one'll even notice!" She lifted the curling iron again, but Sam scrambled forward in his seat and looked straight into the mirror in astonishment. It couldn't be!  
  
    Madison gaped back at him in her wedding dress. "Oh boy!"


	2. Chapter 2

    Sam could hardly believe it. He was Madison again! Not only that, he was Madison in _exactly_ the same time and place as before...like he'd never leaped here to begin with! But that was impossible. Had he ever leaped into the exact same situation twice? In addition to being extremely confused, Sam was fascinated by all of the new possibilities. He continued to stare at Madison's reflection with deep interest.   
  
    "It's not _that_ bad," Fiona assured him, assuming he was fretting about where she'd burned him with the curling iron. He'd forgotten it had even happened. "I barely got your hairline there. Carl won't even notice!"  
  
    "Hey, Fiona, Tia says she needs help organizing the gifts."   
  
    "I'm on it. See you at the ceremony!"  
  
    This was unbelievable. Everything was playing out exactly as it had before. Sam found himself tongue-tied. "I, uh, I--"  
  
    And just as before, Gina fastened his veil on and smiled affectionately at Madison's reflection. "Oh, Madison...you look beautiful." Sam could recall everything as it happened. Misty eyes, grabbing the shoulder puffs, kissing the top of his head. "I'm so happy for you. I'm glad you finally found the one."   
  
    Gradually, he found his voice again. "I'm...happy too." And, he suddenly realized, he was. He slowly began to grin. No one had died, because it never happened!  
  
    "Are you going to go out looking like that?" Madison's mother, Diane, made her snooty entrance. Too late, Sam remembered her next action as she tightened his corset and knocked the wind out of him. "I told you to lose a few more pounds before the wedding, dear, but we can't change that now. I only hope the family looks decent in the photos."  
  
    "Madison will outshine everyone. That's the important thing."  
  
    "Hmmm..." She judged Sam's hair haughtily. "You should leave it down. It looks much better down. Of course, it would look even better if you'd gone with--"  
  
    "--the blue color scheme. Yeah, I know." Sam chuckled, captivated by the instant replay. When he'd been covered in paint, Diane got her blue color scheme after all.  
  
    He might as well have slapped her, from the way Diane reacted. She placed a hand to her chest. "Is that all I am to you? A joke?" Sam couldn't be bothered to be worried about her attitude right now. He was too amazed at what was unfolding before him, simply nodding and pretending to be listening. "You should take this seriously, Madison. This is the most important day of our lives!"  
  
    "You mean _her_ life," Gina corrected her in annoyance.  
  
    "Whatever." Diane gave her the barest acknowledging wave and returned her attention to Sam. "No one listens to me anyway. Oh, and about the dinner, your father and I will have to skip it. You know how salmon gives me gas. And another thing--"  
  
    "Uh, Diane," Gina cut in, "We'd better make sure everything is running smoothly out there. We want it all to be perfect for the big day, don't we?"  
  
    "Fine, fine, Gina, I'll go." Diane sighed, raised her eyebrow, and smiled at Sam. "My little girl. What would you do without me? Oh well. Kiss kiss!" She kissed the air beside Sam's cheeks, Gina guided her out with an apologetic look, and Sam was left alone again.  
  
    Filled with awe, the stunned quantum physicist carefully rose from his seat.   
  
    Al whistled. "Yowza, you're lookin' great there, Sam! White is definitely your color."  
  
    Big grin plastered onto his face, Sam spun around. "Al! This is incredible!"  
  
    "Yeah, I know, talk about bridezilla," Al said in amusement, glancing at the lavish decorations as he paced the room. He looked sideways toward the door. "Or maybe that's _mom_ zilla."   
  
    "Al!" Sam repeated in exasperated excitement, motioning to himself, "I'm Madison again!"  
  
    Al turned his attention away from a stray bra lying on the couch and raised an eyebrow curiously. "Again?"  
  
    "Yeah! Don't you recognize her?" Sam asked giddily, "She was the bride who got stabbed--or I got stabbed--well, one of us or both of us anyway--but I'm back! I can stop the whole thing from ever happening!"   
  
    Al was looking at him like he had a screw loose. He stamped his foot and leaned his head back. "Sam, what're you _talkin'_ about? Who got stabbed? _You_ got stabbed?"  
  
    Now Sam's expression mirrored his. "Yeah, don't you remember? When I leaped in here the first time?"   
  
    "You've never leaped into this woman before," Al told him with confusion. He screwed up his face and shook his head. "And I think I'd remember if you got stabbed!"  
  
    Sam ran his hand down his face as he walked away, his mouth agape again as he tried to fit all of the pieces together. "Then to you...this is happening for the first time..."  
  
    "What?"  
  
    "You still have your mustache."  
  
    "Huh?"  
  
    "You still have your mustache," Sam said again, stepping back toward the hologram. He pointed toward him like he'd discovered a vital clue. "You're trying it out for Tina, right?  
  
    "Yeah, she read about it in--" Al stopped. "Hey wait a minute, how do you know about that? You haven't even seen my mustache before!"  
  
    "You told me the first time we had this conversation."  
  
    "Saaam, what's goin' on with you?" Al was getting gradually more concerned. Sam was pacing again, speaking to himself as he puzzled out the situation.   
  
    "I'm the _future_ me, but you're still _past_ Al..."   
  
    "No, Sam, _you're_ in the past, and _I'm_ in the future!"   
  
    Sam halted and scrunched up his face. "I must have leaped back into _myself_...overwriting the old leap!" His eyes widened in fascination. He paid no attention to Al, who was frenziedly punching the handlink buttons.  
  
    "Gooshie, we've got a big problem! Tell Ziggy to--Uh-oh." He frowned at the screen.  
  
    Fiona poked her head in. "We're about to start. Get ready!" She giggled excitedly and shut the door.   
  
    Sam remembered what had happened the first time, but now he was ready. Al assumed his sudden tenseness was because of the announcement. "I wouldn't worry about that, Sam, because you don't get married. According to Ziggy--"  
  
    Without even looking behind him, Sam grabbed Bud by the arm and flipped him over his back. The heavy man hit the floor with an _oof!_ , dropping the chloroform rag. Al's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.   
  
    "Sam! How did you do that?!"  
  
    Sam grinned. "I told you. I--"  
  
    "Oh, look out!"   
  
    The warning came too late. A second pair of hands grabbed him, placed another rag over his face, and he was out again.  
  
\-------  
  
    "Hey! Rip Van Winkle! Rise and shine!"  
  
    Sam grunted as he returned to consciousness, once again tied and blindfolded in the rancid coffee apartment. "Ohhh, not _again_..." he whined.   
  
    "You alright, kid?"   
  
    "Yeah," Sam sighed begrudgingly, "I can't believe this!"   
  
    "Now don't panic. You're in an apartment in downtown Chicago right now. You've been kidnapped by--"  
  
    "I know, I know," Sam cut him off, "I heard you the first time."  
  
    "Are you still goin' on about that? Sam, Ziggy doesn't have any records of a prior leap involving Madison Antonelli! Not to mention, _I've_ never seen her in the Waiting Room before. And believe me, I'd remember a 10 like that."  
  
    "That's because it's the _same_ leap, Al!"  
  
    "The same leap?" Al sounded skeptical.  
  
    Sam wiggled to face the hologram's general direction. He did his best to ignore his itchy nose. "Half a day ago, I leaped into Madison just before her wedding and got kidnapped. I know everything that's going to happen, because it happened to me already. I leaped back into _myself_ , which is why you don't remember it! To you, this still hasn't happened yet."   
  
    "That's impossible. You can't leap into the same situation twice!"  
  
    It looked like Sam would have to prove himself. With certainty, he began to list what he knew. "I'm engaged to Carl Kingman, the Hot Dog King. The men who kidnapped me are named Bud Turner and Sturgis Fitzburg. They want to hold me for ransom, but before they can get the money, Madison disappears."  
  
    The handlink shrieked, and Al gave a stunned pause as he read the information. "Ziggy says you're right! How could you possibly know that before we did?"  
  
    "Because I keep telling you, Al, I've done this leap before," Sam insisted, grinning in satisfaction. He loved imagining the puzzled look on Al's face, mixed with indignity at being shown up.   
  
    "Holy cannoli..." Al breathed, "But why would you do the same leap again? That doesn't make any sense."  
  
    Sam grew more serious. "Because I failed. Madison got killed. I think this is my chance to save her this time!"  
  
    "Like a...do-over of a do-over?"  
  
    "Exactly!"   
  
    "This is too weird, Sam." The handlink made several new noises Sam didn't recall hearing before. "Ziggy's having a conniption fit over this one!"   
  
    Footsteps signaled the arrival of Sturgis and Bud, who removed Sam's blindfold. Sturgis waved. "Heya, girlie. Sorry about the blindfold. We weren't sure when you were gonna wake up, and we didn't want you gettin' any bright ideas about escaping on the way here. We don't wanna hurt you. So just play nice, and we won't have a problem. Right, Bud?" Bud gave his trademark rotten grin, and Sam recoiled with Al. Even knowing it was coming, it was still a horrific sight.   
  
    "I'll do whatever you want," Sam said softly, pretending to be nervous. Sturgis gave him the whole spiel, handed him the phone, and the leap continued to play out just as it had before, albeit with a far more confused Al and Ziggy. This time around, however, Sam had a more solid plan. In fact, he felt more prepared for this than any other leap. He already knew what to avoid and why he was here, so all he had to do was play this out until he needed to make his move. This was going to be a piece of cake!  
  
    "You wanna watch TV?" Bud asked with a horrid smile.   
  
    "Actually, I'm really hungry. Do you think you could make me something to eat?" Sam batted his eyelashes, knowing his plan would be successful.   
  
    Al frowned. "Saaam, this is no time to be thinkin' about your stomach!"   
  
    Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Bud answered, got up, and asked what he wanted to eat. "Surprise me."   
  
    "One surprise comin' up, little lady!" Bud exited into the filthy kitchen.  
  
    Al covered his nose at the imagined stench. "Yuck! Thank god you're not really eating anything comin' outta _that_ kitchen! What're you doin', Sam?"  
  
    Already on his feet, Sam was perusing the apartment, searching for any sort of sharp object. "I'm looking for something to untie myself with. You mind helping?"  
  
    "Oh. Uhhhh..." Al stuck his head through the wall, pulled out, and waved him over. "Wait! How about this? There's a platform outside this window. You can get out there and flag down some help."  
  
    Sam shook his head and continued to search. "I tried that before. It didn't work. All it did was almost get me killed faster." He shot a blaming look toward Al, since it had been his plan after all   
  
    "Oh." Al screwed up his mouth and smoothed out his mustache as Sam found a glass ash tray. He smashed it on top of the desk, secured a large chunk in the drawer, and dragged the rope across it until he was free. Al stood there uselessly like a plank of wood. "What am I even doing on this leap? Seems like you've got things pretty much handled."  
  
    "Well I know what _didn't_ work, at least." Sam studied the door leading to the front in thought. "What does Ziggy say about this leap?"  
  
    Al shook the handlink and shot the wall a look of frustration. "She isn't saying anything. She says she can't run scenarios for a situation that can't exist."  
  
    "Lot of help _you_ are, Ziggy," Sam complained, "I guess I've gotta trust my gut instinct on this one."  
  
    Al raised his eyebrows with worry. "You told me that the last time you were here, you got skewered. So how're you gonna stop it this time?"  
  
    "I'm gonna get the knife away from Sturgis."  
  
    "What?!" Al shrieked incredulously, "Isn't that just gonna get you killed again?"  
  
    "No, I got stabbed because I tried to intervene in a fight," Sam explained, "If I confront him directly this time, I'll have the advantage."  
  
    "So why don't you just stop the fight before it happens?"   
  
    "That's what I'm trying to do," Sam explained, straining not to sound irritated. Steeling himself, he took a deep breath and started for the door.  
  
    "Oh! You're gonna need a weapon!"   
  
    Sam stopped in annoyance. He wished Al wouldn't yell when he didn't want to draw attention to himself, even if he was the only one who could hear him. "I don't wanna hurt him, I just want to get the knife away," he said in a low voice.   
  
    "You still need to defend yourself, Sam," Al explained to him with a roll of his eyes, "He's not exactly gonna like that his hostage got loose." He gestured his cigar at the desk. "Take that can of air freshener. I can guarantee they've never used it." He curled up his lip in disgust. "You can spray him in the eyes. No permanent damage, and it's nice and effective."   
  
    "Good idea," Sam had to agree. He picked up the can.  
  
    "Worse comes to worse, whack him with your heels. I've had a few wives use that trick." Al chuckled, and Sam pursed his lips. He decided not to respond, focusing instead on his plan. He stepped to the side of the door and called out.   
  
    "Help! I've fallen and I can't get up!"   
  
    "What?" Al tilted his head. Sam shrugged.  
  
    "What're you makin' all that noise for?" Sturgis grumbled, opening the door. Swiftly and efficiently, Sam lifted the can and sprayed.  
  
    Only nothing came out. It was empty!  
  
    "What the hell?!"  
  
    "AL!" Sam shouted angrily. Al threw his hands up helplessly as Sturgis lunged at him. Twisting out of the way, Sam meant to hit him with a roundhouse kick, but his feet got tangled up in his train. With all the grace of an electrocuted cat, he came toppling to the ground. Somewhere in the melee, his veil had twisted itself around and blinded him.   
  
    "Watch out, Sam! He's got the knife!"  
  
    Sam felt like an idiot. Even with a warning, he'd somehow messed this up. Knowing death was getting closer with each passing second, he struggled with the veil, yanking it off of his face and tossing it aside. He got rid of it just in time to see Sturgis brandishing the knife at him. The other man sneered.   
  
    "Why don't you play nice and we'll get ya tied up again?"   
  
    "What's goin' on here?" It was Bud. He had reentered the room with sandwiches.   
  
    Sturgis tightened his jaw. "You almost let our meal ticket escape!"  
  
    "She said she was hungry!"   
  
    "'She said she was hungry,'" Sturgis repeated in a mocking imitation of Bud's falsetto, "You can be so stupid sometimes! No wonder Sherry left you!"   
  
    Now Bud was angry. He threw the plates onto the table in a fit. "You take that back!" he demanded, shoving Sturgis aside. The other man stumbled and threw out his hands to catch his balance, nearly swiping Sam in the process.   
  
    "This doesn't look good, Sam," Al cautioned fearfully, "Ziggy's spitting out all sorts of data! She says now Sturgis is gonna accidentally kill himself!"  
  
    "Why you--!" Sturgis leaped at Bud, and they began to grapple.   
  
    "I've gotta stop them!" Sam yelled. Now it was like he hadn't changed anything!  
  
    Al was shaking his head and wildly waving his arms. "You can't jump in there, or you'll get--!"   
  
    _Thwack!_ Madison's stiletto sailed into the back of Sturgis's head, dazing him and causing him to roll over.   
  
    Feeling rather proud of himself, Sam smiled at Al. "I did it. I saved him without getting killed!"   
  
    Al wasn't so optimistic. "Uh, well, you saved one of 'em..."  
  
    "What?" Sam followed Al's eyeline to Bud, who laid motionless on the floor. The hilt of the knife was sticking out of his stomach. "No!" Sam wailed, crawling over to him, "This wasn't how this was supposed to go!" He checked his pulse, but it was too late. He was gone. Sam lowered his head mournfully.   
  
    "I'm sorry, Sam," Al consoled him, lowering his eyes, "Maybe you were only meant to save Madison."  
  
    If this was a victory, it felt awfully hollow. How could he repeat this leap to save Madison, only to get someone else killed instead? Kidnapper or not, it wasn't a fair trade. Sam had more questions than answers. He was only left feeling confused as to why God, Time, Fate, or Whatever had even bothered starting this leap over again. With that emptiness inside him, he allowed the light to engulf him and send him to another time.  
  
\-------  
  
    Sam's vision cleared and he blinked, wondering what new problem he'd been thrust into. Strangely enough, his last leap was still clear in his mind, unlike the usual swiss-cheesing erasing huge chunks of it from his memory. This was one time when he wished he didn't remember, because it made him feel depressed and heavy.   
  
    Then something burned his temple. "AH!"   
  
    "Jeez, Mads, I told you to stay still!" No way. It wasn't! Sam's eyes grew huge as he stared at Fiona again, who fussed with his hair. "Hang on hang on hang on, don't sweat it. I'll just rearrange your bangs and no one'll even notice!"   
  
    "It's you!" Sam exclaimed in astonishment.   
  
    Fiona put a hand on her hip and huffed. "It's not _my_ fault you can't sit in place!"  
  
    Sam wasn't listening. He was gaping, once again, at Madison in the mirror. Somehow, some way, he'd been given _another_ chance! "Oh boy..." he breathed.  
  
    It was that moment when he realized that his deja vu was more than just a fluke. This leap was turning out to be more than he bargained for.   
  
    He had no idea how much of an understatement that was.


	3. Chapter 3

    "It's not _that_ bad," Fiona offered again with her big, purple grin, "I barely got your hairline there. Carl won't even notice!"  
  
    Sam tuned her out, too busy trying to absorb what was happening. The gears in his head turned over and over as he reevaluated the last day or so.   
  
    Gina fastened on his veil. "Hello?" She cupped his puffy sleeves and leaned in playfully. "Madison, are you in there?"   
  
    "What? Oh, um...yeah...yeah, I'm just nervous about the wedding, that's all." He twisted his fingers together. Maybe he could avoid the kidnapping entirely if he acted now. "I...I need to get out of here."  
  
    Gina laughed. "You wait a year for this, and now you're getting impatient? You'll be out there in a few minutes."  
  
    "No," Sam shook his head, "I mean out of the building. I have a bad feeling about today."  
  
    "You do...want to get married, right?" Gina creased her eyebrows with concern.   
  
    "No--I mean, yes, I do want to get married, but--" Sam knew he would really have to reach here. Literally, he grabbed at the air. "I just feel, in my gut, that something is going to happen."  
  
    "Like what?"  
  
    "Like..." He tried to come up with something that didn't sound lame. He failed. "For instance..." Shrug. "I could get _kidnapped_ , or--"  
  
    "Kidnapped? Madison...are you sure you want to get married?" Gina wasn't following, and Sam realized he was crashing in the wrong direction. Of course, Madison would have no way of knowing what was in store for her, and he didn't want to ruin her marriage by making it seem like she was finding an excuse to leave. They were interrupted by Madison's awful mother barreling her way in.   
  
    "Are you going to go out looking like that?"   
  
    Sam was prepared this time, and he made a quick spin out of the way as Diane reached for the corset laces. "Hi, Mom," he greeted her gruffly, "Listen, I--"  
  
    "Well _there's_ a greeting," Diane chuckled icily, "I'm only trying to help make this the best wedding possible. You could show a little gratitude." Like a hawk snatching its prey, she abruptly reached out with her manicured hands and twisted Sam around, yanking the corset tighter. Sam groaned and tried to breathe. "I told you to lose a few more pounds before the wedding, dear, but we can't change that now. I only hope the family looks decent in the photos."  
  
    Gina rubbed Sam's shoulder comfortingly and spoke up. "Madison's having some second thoughts. Maybe we should--"  
  
    "Now, I didn't say that," Sam cut in nervously, "What I said was that--"  
  
    "Second thoughts, my foot!" Diane said pushily. She began to adjust Sam's veil. "We've put too much time, effort, and money into this wedding, and there's no stopping it now! Besides, how will we look to the public if you run out on Carl Kingman? It'll be front page news!"  
  
    "I think this is _Madison's_ choice," Gina said hotly.   
  
    Ignoring her completely, Diane tugged at a curl in Sam's hair. "Hmmm... You should leave it down. It looks much better down--" Sam was getting irate now. Setting his jaw and trying not to lash out, he grabbed her hand and pulled it away.   
  
    "I know, Mom," Sam said through a smile, "And it would look even better with the blue color scheme _you_ suggested."  
  
    "Madison," Gina said, leaning closer, "You don't have to listen to her. If you want out, just say the word."  
  
    "How dare you?" Diane's eyes lit up like fire. Sam placed himself between the two angry women.  
  
    "No, I--" He closed his eyes. This was not going the way he wanted it to, and he had a hunch that was starting to build up. He'd need to talk to Al to test it, though, which meant he needed these two out of here. "I'm sorry. I was just being nervous. I want to get married."  
  
    Gina glared at Diane before giving Sam a more understanding look. "Are you sure, sweetie? I'm with you, whatever you want to do."  
  
    Sam forced a happy expression. "I'm sure. Thanks." Gina returned the grin and squeezed his shoulder.   
  
    As Diane was cooling off, she brushed off the front of her power suit. "Well...I'm glad that nonsense is settled. Oh, and about the dinner, your father and I will have to skip it. You know how salmon gives me gas. And another thing--"  
  
    "Uh, Diane, we'd better make sure everything is running smoothly out there. We want it all to be perfect for the big day, don't we?"  
  
    Diane said her embarrassing, cheek-kissing goodbye, and Gina came to Sam's rescue again. He liked her more and more with each passing leap.   
  
    Right on cue, Al made his appearance and whistled. "Yowza, you're lookin' great there, Sam! White is definitely your color."  
  
    Sam barely left a beat of acknowledgment before starting in. "Al, I'm about to get kidnapped. Ask Ziggy what the odds are of Bud Turner or Sturgis Fitzburg getting stabbed to death."   
  
    "Wha--Huh? Who?"   
  
    "Just ask her."  
  
    "What's all this about?"  
  
    "Al!"  
  
    The hologram lifted his hands placatingly. "Alright, alright, keep your pants on." He placed his cigar between his teeth and entered in the information. He looked up in surprise. "Gee, Sam, you're right. You do get kidnapped! How did you know that?"  
  
    "Never mind how, what about Bud and Sturgis?"   
  
    "Oh, uh...no, neither of them die. They're still around today."  
  
    Sam had a theory. He swiped the top of his lip in thought, unintentionally aping Al's movement as he smoothed his mustache and tried to figure him out.  
  
    "You mind translating for those of us who aren't inside your noggin?" Al asked, "What's goin' on?"   
  
    "Al, I know this is going to sound weird, but I've done this leap before."   
  
    Al scrutinized him closely. "You have?"  
  
    "Twice now," Sam explained, talking with his hands. He always did when he was thinking out loud. "The first time, I screwed up and got Madison killed. When I leaped back, I thought it was to save her, but now I'm not so sure. The last leap ended with _Bud_ getting killed, so now I think I'm here to save him too." He bit his lip and squinted in thought. "Only, _Sturgis_ was going to get killed before that. But then I changed things. And neither of them die if I do nothing, but if I do nothing, Madison disappears..."  
  
    "What are you _talkin’_ about?" Al asked in exasperation, hopelessly lost.   
  
    But Sam's explanation had quickly devolved into a conversation with himself. "Both times, the fight happened after I tried to escape. So if I stop them from taking me, they'll get into a fight for screwing up the kidnapping, and one of them is going to die again. Right?"  
  
    Al was frozen in place, staring at Sam as if he were speaking an alien language. "Earth to Sam! Hello? You can't leap into the same situation three times; that's impossible!"   
  
    Sam pursed his lips and sighed. "Then how did I know I was going to get kidnapped? Or that Madison disappears?"  
  
    Al scratched at his temple. "Uhhh, well..."  
  
    "See?"  
  
    "Okay then," Al challenged him, "if you've done this leap twice already, why don't I remember it?"   
  
    "Because I leaped back into myself. I'm the me from the future, and you're the you from the past."  
  
    "No, Sam, _you're_ in the past, and _I'm_ in the future!"   
  
    Sam tilted his head back with an audible noise of frustration. "Look, you're just going to have to believe me, okay? I messed this leap up twice, so now I'm here again to fix it."   
  
    Al hesitantly went along with him. "Like a...do-over of a do-over...of a do-over?"  
  
    "Yeah, something like that."  
  
    "So...what do you do now?" It was odd hearing Al ask him that, since he was usually the one telling him what to do.   
  
    "We're about to start. Get ready!" Fiona exited.  
  
    "Well..." Sam flopped his hands resignedly. "I guess I've gotta get kidnapped."   
  
    He didn't even bother fighting, simply letting Bud grab him and waiting for unconsciousness to come.  
  
\-------  
  
    "Hey! Rip Van Winkle! Rise and shine!"  
  
    Sam groaned. He hated getting chloroformed. "I'm up, I'm up..."  
  
    "You alright, kid?"  
  
    "Yeah."  
  
    "Now don't panic. You're in an apartment in downtown Chicago right now. You've been kidnapped by--"  
  
    "I know, Al, okay?"   
  
    "Right." The handlink whirred and Al went silent for a moment. "This is too weird, Sam. Ziggy's having a conniption fit over this one!"   
  
    "What else is new?"   
  
    "She might as well be scrap metal for as much use as she is right now," Al groused, "She says she can't run scenarios for a situation that can't exist. I don't suppose you have a plan to get out of this?"   
  
    "Sort of."   
  
    "'Sort of'?"   
  
    "If I escape, the two of them are going to fight and one of them is going to die. So...what if I trap them apart from each other until the police arrive?"  
  
    Al considered it. "Could work. But you're gonna have to get the police here first, pal. Let's see, uh..." Sam heard Al's footsteps as he shuffled around. "Oh! Sam! There's a platform outside this window. Er--Well, if you could see right now, there'd be a window here. You can get out there and flag down some help." The handlink chirped. "Ziggy gives it a 62% chance of success."   
  
    "Perfect," Sam said, disappointed. If he wanted to avoid a conflict with Sturgis that got Madison stabbed, the window was his best bet. "So until I can get to that, I won't change anything."  
  
    "Great. Then you trap the bozos, call in the cavalry, and get married. Er--Madison will get married, I mean." Sam nodded. Al stepped closer. "Do you know who she's getting hitched to? The Hot Dog King! His brand is HUGE, made it big in the late 80s with those catchy commercial jingles. Let's see, uhhh..." He began his horribly off-key singing. "Ring-a-ling-ling, he's the King, for the BEST--"  
  
    Luckily, he was cut off by the arrival of Sam's kidnappers. Thank god.   
  
\-------  
  
    The leap continued exactly as scripted, and Sam waited patiently until he got Bud out of the room to enact his new plan. As he freed himself with the broken ash tray, Al studied the room.  
  
    "You might need to defend yourself, Sam. Grab that can of air freshener. I can guarantee they've never used it. You can--"   
  
    "It's empty."  
  
    "Oh...Well, worse comes to worse, whack him with your heels. I've had a few wives use that trick." Al chuckled.   
  
    "Just let me handle this, okay, Al?" Sam said testily.   
  
    "What am I even doing on this leap?" Al asked, more miffed this time, "Seems like you've got things pretty much handled."  
  
    "Yep." Sam placed a chair in front of the doors to the kitchen and to the main entryway, blocking Bud and Sturgis in their respective areas.   
  
    Al cleared his throat and acted as if he wasn't offended by receiving the brush-off. "I notice you haven't commented on my mustache, Sam. What do you think?" He puffed up his chest and waited for Sam's approval.  
  
    "Uh, it looks good," Sam lied distractedly. He didn't want to mess up this time. Remembering his blunder in the previous leap when he'd tried to confront Sturgis, he tore off his veil and ripped off most of the bottom half of his dress.   
  
    Evidently, Al was disappointed in Sam's lack of enthusiasm. He stepped through the wall and followed Sam into the rain, but of course he was bone dry. "Tina thinks it's sexy. She says she read in Teen Beat Magazine that mustaches make a man look suave and sophisticated." Sam nearly slipped. "Careful, Sam, it's kinda wet."  
  
    Sam glared. " _Thank you_." He held onto the cable tightly and peered down to the street below. It was hard to see anything in this rain.   
  
    "She says she likes the pictures," Al leered, "She also likes it when my mustache tickles her--"  
  
    "Hey! You get back here!" Sturgis must have been able to push his way past Sam's fool-proof chair block, but the quantum physicist could only speculate as he dangled from the edge of the platform again.  
  
    "SAM!" Al shouted.   
  
    The bars were slick, and Sam's grip was precarious at best. He hoped beyond hope that this scenario would play out the same as it did with Bud on the platform, because he didn't care to find out what it felt like to turn into a pancake.   
  
    "Hang on, Sam!" Al was shaking the handlink. "Come on, Ziggy, gimme something!"  
  
    "That was a really dumb move, girl," Sturgis said, creeping onto the platform. "Now we're gonna get you back inside, tie you back up, and you're gonna play nice. Got me?"   
  
    Sam nodded and gulped. "Got you."  
  
    "Good. Now--" Sturgis hit the paint can with his foot, and Sam was drenched in watery blue.  
  
    He closed his eyes. This was humiliating. A rough hand grabbed him by the wrist, and before he knew it, he was being yanked up by the older man. Once Sam had his feet on solid ground again, he blew out a breath and sank into the wall.   
  
    "I think you need a time out," Sturgis said angrily. He moved to grab Sam again, but as he did he lost his footing and slipped.  
  
    "NO!" Sam reached for him, but he was too slow. The man went over the edge and plunged down to the asphalt below. Hand still outreached, Sam lit up like a Christmas tree and leaped.   
  
\-------  
  
    The fourth time around, the familiar surroundings were less surprising.   
  
    "AH!"   
  
    "Jeez, Mads, I told you to stay still! Hang on hang on hang on, don't sweat it. I'll just rearrange your bangs and no one'll even notice!"   
  
    "Oh boy..." Sam sighed defeatedly.   
  
    "It's not _that_ bad. I barely got your hairline there. Carl won't even notice!"  
  
    Sam simply nodded, switching to autopilot as he reassessed everything. Again. Was this leap cursed? Every new turn he took, someone ended up dead!   
  
    This wasn't that hard. Sam was a problem-solver, that's what he did. Even before leaping, he prided himself in tackling huge, insurmountable obstacles using his genius brain. So why didn't it work when he needed it to?   
  
    If he ran out now, he'd ruin Madison's marriage. Besides, he had to get kidnapped so he could stop Bud and Sturgis from killing each other. And somehow, he had to get them separated, and contact the police without falling to his death. That is, if he could survive another encounter with Madison's nagging mother, or keep himself from losing his patience after his third explanation of the situation to Al.   
  
    "You can't leap into the same situation four times; that's impossible!"   
  
    "Evidently, I can," Sam sighed. He rubbed his eyes.   
  
    "Okay then, if you've done this leap three times already, why don't I remember it?"   
  
    "Because--Because I leaped back into myself, and you're the past you."  
  
    "No, Sam, _you're_ in the past, and _I'm_ in the future!"   
  
    "Never mind!" Sam burst out, "I don't care if you believe me or not. All I know is, I'm going to keep repeating this leap until I can fix it."   
  
    Al scratched at his mustache. "Like a...do-over of a do-over...of a do-over...of a--?" He tilted his head. "Wait, is that too many...?"   
  
    "We're about to start. Get ready!"   
  
    "It's already too many," Sam sighed. His shoulders sunk as he waited to be carried over the threshold of the coffee stink apartment.   
  
\-------  
  
    "Oh! Sam! Over here!" Al pulled his head out of the wall and waved him over. "There's a platform outside this window." He jabbed his cigar at the glass. "You can get out there and flag down some help."  
  
    Sam shook his head as he paced. "I tried that twice. It didn't work."   
  
    Al scratched the back of his head. "Okaaaay, uhhh...Ooh, grab that can of air freshener." He pointed to the desk. "I can guarantee they've never used it. You can--"  
  
    "It's empty."  
  
    "Oh...Well, worse comes to worse, whack him with your heels." Al chuckled. "I've had--"  
  
    "--a few wives use that trick, yeah, I get the joke." Sam planted a chair next to the kitchen door as if he were staking it to the ground.   
  
    "Well you don't have to snap at me," Al said, looping his thumbs through his suspenders, "I'm only trying to help."  
  
    "You know what would really be a help? If Ziggy had any useful information on this leap!"  
  
    Al rolled his eyes. "Ziggy has a microchip on her shoulder over this whole thing. She says she can't run scenarios for a situation that can't exist."   
  
    "It does exist, because I'm living it!" Sam deftly ripped off his veil and tore away his skirt.   
  
    "That's what I keep telling her!"   
  
    Now that Sam had more time to think about it, he realized he had more of an advantage than ever. By witnessing his failures, he knew what direction to veer away from. No more messing around. This time, he was going to complete the leap with little to no disappearing, stabbing, or falling. He was sure of it.   
  
    "Help!" he called out, "Help me!"   
  
    Moments later, Sturgis was entering the room. "What're you makin'--?" Before he could even complete the sentence, Sam had slammed the door into his nose. While he was stunned, Sam reached for his pocket and pulled out the knife. "Hey! Why you little--" But he received a swift flying noodle kick to the face by a freshly de-heeled Sam, and he crumpled to the ground, stars dancing around his head.   
  
    "Wow!" Al exclaimed in astonishment, "Nice one, Sam!"   
  
    "Thanks." Sam was rather proud of himself. While Sturgis was out, he grabbed his veil and train and tied him up with it. "There we go. Let's see them kill each other now."   
  
    "What's to stop them from going at it when you leave?" Al asked curiously.  
  
    Sam picked up the phone and grinned. "That's what the police are for, Al."   
  
    Al closed his eyes sheepishly. Sometimes, the most obvious conclusion was the one that sailed right over his head.  
  
\-------  
  
    That chapel was the most beautiful sight Sam had ever seen. As he walked past the paparazzi and entered the church, he was greeted by the whole wedding party. There was Fiona, another bridesmaid he hadn't met, his domineering mother, Gina, and, of course, the Hot Dog King.   
  
    Carl Kingman smiled his gap-toothed grin, first at the paparazzi and then at Sam, and spread his arms as wide as possible, swooping him into an airtight embrace. Sam wheezed. "Oh, my pookie! You're finally here!"   
  
    "Mmmfuwahee..." Sam muffled back, his face pressed against the man's shoulder. Carl pulled him back and looked at him lovingly. "I'm...glad I'm here too."  
  
    "Thank god you're okay," Gina said. Her eyes were red. "I was so scared!"   
  
    "You don't have to worry about me," Sam assured her, smiling confidently at his invisible friend beside her, "I have a feeling things are going to work out."  
  
    Al grinned back, and Sam could feel himself reaching the finish line. It only took him four tries, but at last this horrible leap was over, and he could finally move on. And thank god, because he was sick to death of wearing heels and a wedding dress! But Sam was proud of what he'd done. He'd saved Madison's marriage, and nobody had to die. All in all, it was a very good, if very long, day.   
  
    As Carl leaned in for a kiss, everything went blue and Sam leaped.  
  
\-------  
  
    Right back into the wedding parlor. Fiona burned him with the curler. He yelled.   
  
    "Jeez, Mads, I told you to stay still!"  
  
    No. No, no, no, no, no, NO! This couldn't be happening! Not again! Sam quickly leaned over to look at his reflection, clinging to some vain hope that he'd just leaped into a remarkably similar situation. But sure enough, there was Madison again, staring helplessly back at him.   
  
    "Oh sh--!" he fell out of his chair and landed flat on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

    "Hey! Are you okay?" Fiona reached to help Sam up from the floor, but he pulled himself to his feet in a fluster.   
  
    "What happened?" By now, Gina was there too, looking concerned.   
  
    Running his hands through his hair, wild eyed, Sam spun in a circle and questioned the cosmos. "What did I do wrong that time, huh?! Everything was perfect!"   
  
    "It's not _that_ bad," Fiona assured him, mildly alarmed at his flailing reaction, "I barely got your hairline there. Carl won't even notice!"  
  
    His bout of broad gesturing over, Sam retreated into himself and began to bite his nails. "Nobody got hurt, nobody died, wedding bells were ringing. What the hell else am I supposed to do?!"   
  
    Fiona was speechless, the curling iron forgotten in her hand. Gina, trying to be the voice of calm, tapped the other bridesmaid on the shoulder and leaned in discretely. "Hey, Fiona, Tia said she needs help organizing the gifts."  
  
    "I'm on it," Fiona said, still eyeing Sam cautiously. "See you at the ceremony." With an uneasy wave, she sidled out.   
  
    With an ease that came from apparent experience in dealing with emotional rollercoasters, Gina approached Sam with a comforting smile. "Nervous about the wedding?" she asked. Without any other ideas in mind, Sam shrugged hopelessly and stared at the floor. The veil was placed on his head before Gina cupped his enormous shoulders. "There's nothing to be nervous about, sweetie. You look beautiful." She blinked as she became misty eyed, kissing him atop the head. "I'm so happy for you. I'm glad you finally found the one."   
  
    Sam simply pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Just a moment of peace, that's what he wanted. This was madness. He needed to calm down and get ahold of himself. But of course, here came Hurricane Diane to destroy everything in her path.   
  
    "Are you going to go out looking like that?" She tightened Sam's corset and he yelled in protest. "I told you to lose a few more pounds before the wedding, dear, but--"  
  
    In a sudden burst of unbridled anger, Sam smacked her hands away. "Stop it! Just stop it, okay?!" He milked the stunned pause for all it was worth, glaring at her scoldingly. Now that the gloves were off, he was going to give her a piece of his mind. "What is it with you? Why do you have this compulsive need to control everything in your daughter's life? Is this a game? Do you enjoy driving her insane? Or is it just flat out narcicissm?"  
  
    Diane clutched her chest in shock, flabbergasted. "Why I _never_! Where did you learn to speak to your mother that way? Like some sort of... _bully_?!"   
  
    "I learned it from _you_!" Sam hissed like a madman, stepping closer. Gina hurriedly placed herself between them.   
  
    "Uh, Diane, we'd better make sure everything is running smoothly out there. We want it all to be perfect for the big day, don't we?"  
  
    "I'm not finished speaking to my daughter!"   
  
    Sam pointed at Madison's mother. "Oh yeah? You can take your blue color scheme and shove it--"  
  
    Before he could finish, Gina had forcibly guided Diane to the door. "I think I can hear Aunt Millie out there. She'll need help finding her seat. We don't want her getting near Cousin Lisa; you know how they fight!" Diane continued to protest, but Gina managed to get her out the door. Shooting Sam a look that clearly said they'd talk later, she followed the blustering woman outside. It didn't matter. Sam knew he wouldn't be around for the intervention. He had his cushy kidnapping gig to get to, an express ticket to the most disgusting yet spacious apartment Chicago had to offer.    
  
    Al wolf-whistled. "Yowza, you're lookin' great there, Sam! White is definitely your color."  
  
    "Don't start, Al. Don't you dare start." Sam closed his eyes again.  
  
    Al was on his way over to the couch to leer at the forgotten bra, but he stopped and raised his eyebrow at his friend. "Touchy today, are we?"   
  
    "You could say that."  
  
    "Yeah, well I wouldn't like becoming bridezilla either, but we've all got our problems." Al leaned his head forward and gave him a cheeky grin. He took the handlink out of his pocket and shook it. "It's May 23...1990, you're in Chicago..."  
  
    Sam let Al continue his information dump uninterrupted, nodding occasionally as if this was new to him. He decided not to bother telling Al this time around. What would it matter? He'd just forget when it happened again. And again. And again...  
  
    Right about now, he figured he had one option left, and that was to simply do nothing. Don't change anything. Maybe if he could figure out exactly how Madison disappeared in the first place, he'd find whatever vital clue he was missing. What was the worst thing that could happen? If he got killed again, he'd just leap back and start the whole thing over. As Al began to sing the Hot Dog King jingle in his usual off-key zeal, Sam grinned to himself. Yes, he was going to get answers. He'd solve this leap if it killed him. Twice.   
  
    "Earth to Sam! Hello?" Al waved the handlink in front of his face. "Am I talkin' to myself here?"  
  
    "We're about to start. Get ready!"   
  
    Al was still looking questioningly at Sam. Sam shook his head clear and forced his expression into one that assured his friend that everything was normal. "Yeah, I was just thinking, that's all. Do you, um, do you know why I leaped in here?"   
  
    "Not yet, but Ziggy's workin' on it as we speak. In the meantime--" The handlink shrieked and he read the screen, his eyebrows shooting up. "Uhhh, well, you don't get married, Sam. According to Ziggy--"  
  
    Yet again, Sam was nabbed by the world's unluckiest kidnappers.   
  
\-------  
  
    And so, Sam spent the leap going through the motions, repeating his dialogue like a well-trained actor, until he was left alone with Bud as he watched TV, the point where he'd first tried to change anything. And then changed nothing, which, ironically, was a change.  
  
    After about twenty minutes of Sam silently watching the news over Bud's shoulder, Al slid closer to him with narrowed eyes. "You're bein' awful quiet, Sam. Don't you think we should be coming up with a plan to get you out of here?"   
  
    "I'm working on it," Sam said through the side of his mouth, just to not arouse suspicion.   
  
    "Well you should get a move on before 4 o'clock comes around," Al warned him, "Before you make like the _Invisible Man_ and vanish." He searched the room and stuck his head out of the wall. "Oh! Sam! Over here!" Al pulled his head out of the wall. "There's a platform outside this window. You can get out there and flag down some help. That is, if you can get rid of lunkhead over there." He waved his cigar at Bud. Sam bit his lip. This didn't go unnoticed by Al, who closed in on him again. "What is it? What's wrong?"  
  
    "I think...I think I'm gonna see how this leap plays out, Al," Sam said casually. He'd have to tell Al _something_.   
  
    "See how it plays out?" Al echoed as if he'd lost his mind. He took out the handlink and pointed at it. "We _know_ how it plays out! Madison disappears before the exchange! And if you don't stop it, _you_ disappear!"  
  
    "How?"   
  
    "How?"  
  
    "Yeah. How does she disappear?"   
  
    "I told you, we don't know."  
  
    "That's what I'm going to find out."  
  
    "Saaam..."  
  
    "I know what I'm doing, alright?" He didn't. But Al didn't know that, and it wouldn't matter soon enough anyway.   
  
    The handlinked chirped. "Ziggy says that's too dangerous, and for once, we agree. C'mon, you can't just do nothing!"  
  
    "Watch me," Sam repeated stubbornly.   
  
    Al stared at him, taken aback, but Sam didn't even look at him anymore. He punched in some keys on the handlink and opened up the Imaging Chamber. "I'll be back. I've got to feed Annabelle anyway." Still giving Sam a suspicious side-eye, he pressed another button and vanished into the future.   
  
\-------  
  
    By the time it was nearly 4 o'clock and Sam was being crammed into the back of Bud's junky old car, he was feeling less confident. He rubbed his hands together nervously behind his back, keeping watch for whatever horrible accident befell Madison. Maybe Sturgis and Bud got into an argument in the car, swerving into traffic. Maybe Madison keeled over and died of some undiagnosed medical condition. Maybe a second pair of rival kidnappers had intercepted her on the way. Any number of sinister twists could have taken place, each ending with Madison--and now Sam--dead as a doornail.   
  
    The kidnappers pulled him out of the car, grabbed the bag of cash, and sped off down the road, laughing gleefully.   
  
    Standing on the sidewalk alone, Sam was dumbstruck. Within minutes, he was greeted by policemen, his fiancee, his bridesmaids, his mother, and a few paparazzi in tow. Al was back now, scratching his mustache in confusion.   
  
    "Oh, my pookie! You're finally here!" Carl Kingman mugged for the camera and squeezed Sam tight.   
  
    Sam was rendered mute, not just from the smothering groom but from the sheer unfairness of it all. He absolutely could not accept that the key to solving this leap was as simple as doing nothing at all. This leap would've played out exactly the same if he'd been a crash test dummy!  
  
    "Thank god you're okay," Gina said, "I was so scared!"   
  
    "I can't believe that worked," Sam breathed.  
  
    "I don't think so, Sam," Al said somberly, looking up from the handlink. Sam's muscles tightened as the realization of what he was about to hear sank in. "According to Ziggy, Madison still disappears."  
  
    Sam screwed up his face. "Son of a--!"  
  
    He leaped. Again. And again.  
  
    And again.  
  
\-------  
  
    And again. All totalled, Sam had repeated this leap 109 different times; he knew because he could recount every excruciating moment with his photographic memory. Of those 109 different tries, Sturgis had perished 12 times (7 which were accidental stabbings), Bud had met his end a whopping 32 times, Sam himself had met 17 grisly endings (one of which involved all three of them falling off the building, The Hot Dog King's massive visage laughing as they passed), and Madison disappeared at the end of every one of them. Sam tried everything he could think of. He tried running away. He tried ending the marriage. He haggled and got them to kidnap his harpy mother instead. He tried teaming up with the kidnappers for part of the ransom money, because sure, why not? One leap, he simply pretended to be unconscious the whole time. And on a very special occasion, he set fire to the apartment. It seemed no matter what he did, the outcome was the same. The only thing that changed was Sam, who slowly, but surely, lost his marbles and stuffed his head full of that grass you find in Easter baskets.   
  
    His legs bounced up and down like a nervous rabbit, the rest of his paint-stained body restricted by ropes and his mind racing a thousand miles an hour. He couldn't find the energy to even be embarrassed anymore, he'd been through this situation so many times.   
  
    _Clunk-whoosh_. Al stepped in from the Imaging Chamber. "I guess, uh, we found you something blue, huh, Sam?" He closed his eyes and chuckled at his own joke. Sam's nostrils flared and his legs jiggled faster. "Oh come on, that was funny." Sam's eyes, the eyes of a man who had stared into the sun and seen the endless abyss, slid toward him. "Okay. I guess it wasn't _that_ funny. I just came to see how you're holding up until Ziggy can come up with something. We gotta hurry though, 'cause I've gotta get back to Annabelle."  
  
    "Nobody cares about your stupid tortoise, Al!" Sam burst out, his voice cracking.  
  
    From the look Al was giving him, he might as well have punched an infant. "You take that back, Sam," he demanded.  
  
    Sam's head rolled to the side, "Al, I'm not in the mood, I'm really not--"  
  
    "Annabelle is a _delight_."  
  
    "This is typical, this is so typical--"  
  
    "And I'm not doing anything else until you apologize!" Al dug his feet into the ground and placed his cigar to his lips, eyes narrowing.   
  
    Sam leaped to his feet in a fit of fury, and Bud stood along with him. "Hey, what're you doin'?" Bud asked, "Who're you talking to?"  
  
    "I've had to spend too many leaps listening to you talk about feeding that thing, telling me about your gross sex life, and making your awful jokes! I've had it! I've just had it!" He nearly lost his balance and had to hop to stay upright.   
  
    "Sam, what're you _talkin'_ about?"   
  
    "And I hate your mustache! I hate it! I hate the ugly way it just sits on your lip like you drank a cup of mud and left it there like a big, fat slob! You look like a used car salesman! I hate everything it stands for!"  
  
    Al was offended to his very core. He stamped his foot and frowned. "Well, it doesn't matter what _you_ think, because _Tina_ thinks it's sexy. She says she read in--"  
  
    "Everyone knows Tina just suggested it because Gooshie has a mustache! And you're gonna shave it off in a couple days anyway! Open up your eyes! That mustache is a lie! A dirty lie!"   
  
    "She's lost it, Sturgis!" Bud yelled, bewildered.  
  
    "Oh yeah? Well see how well you do without me then!" Al yelled, punching the handlink so hard he nearly broke it. The Imaging Chamber opened up and he hastily retreated.   
  
    "How about you eat something and calm down, huh?" Bud offered, reaching for his arm.  
  
    Sam screamed and tackled him.   
  
\-------  
  
    "I guess, uh, we found you something blue, huh, Sam?" Al chuckled. "Oh come on, that was funny...Okay. I guess it wasn't _that_ funny. I just came to see how you're holding up until Ziggy can..."   
  
    Al continued. Sam nodded. The loop went on.   
  
    "Hey, what if you tried to--"  
  
    "It doesn't work."  
  
    "You don't know what--"  
  
    "No, I can't sneak out the bathroom, the spray can is empty, I won't seduce them, and you can't recalibrate Ziggy and convince them you're a ghost. And the downstairs neighbor isn't home, so I can't climb down the platform using my train; I'll just slip and fall-- _splat!_ \--on the ground."   
  
    "Jeez, Sam, you sound like you've had a long day..."  
  
    "You can say that again--actually, you have."   
  
    "Who're you talking to?" Bud asked.   
  
    Sam shrugged defeatedly. "No one. Just myself."  
  
    The larger man gave a tinkly laugh. "My Sherry would talk to herself sometimes. Before..." He looked at the floor, downcast. "She left me for someone else. My best friend. Said they fell in love. Funny. They only noticed they were in love _after_ Sherry and I got together."  
  
    "Nice guy like you?" Al mocked, lifting his cigar, "How could she let you go?"  
  
    "I don't know what to tell you, Bud," Sam said offhandedly, not terribly invested in the conversation, "I guess you two weren't meant to be."  
  
    "How can you do that to someone though?" Bud asked sadly, "How could she say she loved me when she loved somebody else?"   
  
    Sam shrugged. It was the only real movement he could make under the rope. "Well, sometimes you don't see that you love someone else until it's staring you right in the face." His face went slack. His eyes lit up.  
  
    "Maybe. Doesn't seem fair though." Disappointed, Bud turned his attention back to the TV.   
  
    Sam slowly cracked a wide, tired grin. _Until it's staring you right in the face._ Sam couldn't believe he didn't see it before! There was the answer, right in front of him the whole time!  
  
    "Sam?" Al looked at him curiously.   
  
    "All this time...all of these guesses as to who or what made Madison disappear...and there was one person we left out."  
  
    "Who?"  
  
    Sam looked up at Al. "Madison."  
  
    "Madison makes _herself_ disappear?" Al questioned, tilting his head, "Why would she do that?"  
  
    "I think I know."  
  
\-----  
  
    Sam ascended the steps into the gorgeous wedding chapel for the 54th and last time, his shoulders raised confidently, his feet lighter. The paparazzi flashed their cameras and he opened the doors to find the relieved wedding party waiting for him.   
  
    "Oh, my pookie! You're finally here!" Carl smothered him on his shoulder.

    Sam pulled away, caught his breath, and smiled. "I'm glad I'm here too."   
  
    "Thank god you're okay," Gina said, "I was so scared!"   
  
    Sam grinned back at her. "I was worried about you too." Carl leaned in for a kiss, but Sam sidestepped out of the way. "But I have an announcement I have to make."  
  
    "What is it, babydoll?"  
  
    Sam looked at Carl gently. "Thank you for paying my ransom, and for taking care of me, but...I have to call off the wedding."  
  
    The crowd collectively gasped. Carl eyed the cameras cautiously. "Er--Whatever for, darling?"  
  
    "Like hell you'll call off the wedding!" Diane yelled furiously, her pink heels nearly smashing in the floor, "Stop talking nonsense and let's get this over with!"  
  
    "I think this is _Madison's_ choice," Gina said defensively.  
  
    "You tell her, girl," Al said proudly. He nodded for Sam to continue, and Sam grinned and stepped away from his now ex-fiancee.   
  
    "I can't marry you, Carl..." Sam said apologetically, stopping in front of Gina, "...because I'm in love with someone else."  
  
    If the crowd was shocked at the first announcement, they exploded at this bombshell. Diane clutched her chest in horror, and Carl sweated as he glanced at the paparazzi. Gina's face went white in complete surprise.   
  
    "When I was in trouble, Gina was the only one who asked if I was okay. She's the only one who's really asked...what _I_ wanted. And..." Sam stepped closer and gave her a tight, questioning grin, "I want you. That is, if you'll have me."  
  
    Gina had to place a hand to her mouth to hide her teary smile. The crowd watched in anticipation, including Al, who leaned in and waited for her answer. "But...but what will people think?" she asked softly.  
  
    "I don't care. Madison Antonelli loves you." He knew this was right. He'd felt this connection with Gina since his very first leap in this loop, and he knew it was Madison who was feeling it. It just took him until now to realize what that feeling really was, and why Madison had been so scared she ran away. She was afraid of rejection. Sam felt some of that same fear now too.  
  
     But an overjoyed Gina laughed through her tears and took Sam's hands in hers. "Gina Kingman loves you too." Sam's chest swelled up with joy.   
  
    "That did it, Sam!" Al yelled triumphantly, reading the handlink, "Bud and Sturgis are caught in a couple days trying to flee to Mexico; they go to jail for a long time. Madison and Gina get together and eventually take over the family business..." He chuckled at the screen. "...when Carl decides to take an early retirement with his new trophy wife."  
  
    "That's great," Sam said happily.   
  
    "It sure is," Gina agreed.   
  
    "Go on, Sam," Al egged him on with a wave, "Give her a kiss."  
  
    Still smiling, Sam shook his head. "This one's Madison's."   
  
    "No, this one's Gina's," Gina said, leaning in. Just before their lips touched, Sam leaped.  
  
\-----  
  
    Before the light had even left Sam's eyes, he was punched in the nose and landed face-first in the mud.   
  
    "What do you think you're doin' with my woman?" asked an angry man in flannel.   
  
    Cautiously, Sam looked down at his clothes, a pair of overalls with no shirt, and the mud covering his body. He looked up at the woods around him. No church. No heels. No puffy sleeves. He could hardly believe it, but it was true. After 110 tries, it was a new leap. At. Long. Last.   
  
     Not caring how he looked, he fell into the mud and laughed until his sides hurt. No matter how this one turned out, it was the best day he'd ever had!


End file.
